The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1887-10-13
A. Thrilling Adventure.


"What was the closest place you were
ever in, in your frontier experience%
was the conundrum fired by a Chronicle
reporter at Captain Jack Crawford,
"The Poet Scout" The scout ran his
fingers through his long, black hair, re.
fected few moments and replied:
"Well, I'll tell you, but you mustn't
give it away in print. 1t occurred about
a year ago, when Geronimo was on the
war path with his murderous Apaches.
/ was out deer hunting near range Of
mountains west Of my home, and about
noon unsaddled my horse on mesa, or
piece of high table land, and after pick
citing the animal out in the grass sat
down to eat some cold lunch from my
saddle pocket. After finishing The lunch
I concluded to let the horse Craze for
awhile and leisurely strolled out on long
arm of the mesa, the sides of which were
very precipitous sort of perpendicular
wall extending for fully 500 feet to the
plain below.
"I stood there gazing from the giddy
height for several minutes, and then
looked up. Imagine the uneasy feeling
which crept along my spine when I sew
row of at least thirty painted savages
between me and my horse. There I was,
utterly unable to defend myself, my rifle
and pistols back with my saddle, great
precipice on three sides of me, and that
band of Indians in front. To jump over
the cliff would be certain death; to rush
upon the Indians unarr ID and single.
handed as certain in result, and if re-.
mained where stood it would be only q
matter of few moments before they
would advance and kill me.
~ never was worse scared in my life.
My blood seemed to freeze in 1ny veins,
and my long hair stood up like a ships
masts. To me it seemed there was abso.
lutely no escape from sure and terrible
death. observed that the Indians were
holding discussion among themselves,
and soon saw them drawing lots. I at
once OWNED their purpose. They had
discovered that was entirely unarmed,
and were drawing lots to see which one
should advance and dispatch me with a
knife. The lot fell to stalwart warrior
with hideously painted face, and with
long knife in his hand he advanced
toward me.
eff ever man made good time in
reeling off prayer I did it just then. I
think I must have beaten the record by
several points. 1 thought I knew that I
must die, but just when / was about to
give up in despair cold calmness came
over me, and I resolved that the fend
should not murder me without a struggle.
When he got near me I sprang upon him
with the ferocity of tiger, and we were
soon engaged in a desperate hand.to.hand
struggle. The savage band stood quietly
enjoying the sport, for they knew I had
no weapon. During the struggle I
observed to my horror that we were near
ing the edge Of the cliff, and almost be.
fore could realize it the savage grasped
me by my long hair, bent me backward,
and over we went,- down, down to certain
death on the rocks below"
"And you fell on top of the Indian
and escaped?"
"No; the Indian fell on top of me,
with fingers still locked in my hair, and
over and over we rolled, clear across the
room."
"The room?"
"Yes, the bedroom. You see, it was
an ugly dream, and in my desperation I
grabbed my wife, and she retaliated by
entwining her fingers in my hair. In
our desperate struggle We rolled out of
bed, and after we awoke my wife held on
with her deathlike grip until I had ex.
planned. Then we both laughed until
the echoes stirred up the whole Rio
Grande valley, forgave each other, and
went back to bed. That was the most
desperate fight in which I ever took a
hand, but I have been in far more danger.
GUS ones."-&. Louis Chronicle.